Shame On You
by simmonsDA50
Summary: Walking Dead, Season 2, about and takes place after episodes 2 and 3. Shane comes back with the medical supplies, and Rick comforts him. Also, one use of the word "faggot". Shane has an evil conscience. The rough draft is Before, my other story (btw, theres a smut piece in that RD which explains that shane basically gave rick a hand job, should read it before this cause smut here2)
1. Chapter 1

Otis died a hero.

 _You're a fucking liar, and you know it._

No, he had a meaningful death. Saved us all.

 _You shot him in his goddamned leg. The only meaning you gave it was malice._

He saved me.

 _Boy, no one can save you._

"Shane."

The man abruptly started at his name, looking up to find the face of the voice that'd shaken him. Rick, his blue eyes soft, his voice gentle. He had a damp washcloth in hand, standing across from him.

"Here," he murmured, along with a string of other words that Shane could only ignore, as he was deep inside his own mind.

Shane felt the coolness of the cloth on the back of his neck, the side of his face, bridge of his nose. He couldn't feel anything beyond it. He slowly sank into the cold, the dark. He could hear the snarling walkers in his ear, he could feel them closing in on him. Them.

 _You were a dead man._

A hand on his shoulder brought him back from his mind, steadying him when he didn't know he was swaying. "Shane, you haven't sat down since you got here. You could use a rest." Shane shook his head, vacillating between looking at Rick and the ground. Rick was the one it hurt the most to look at, for Shane had committed an act of treason he knew not even Rick would forgive him for.

 _Why is it_ _ **Rick's**_ _forgiveness you need? He's too good for this world anymore, he's too damn good._

However, this was a difficulty. Rick was also the only person he could allow himself to make eye contact with right now. He didn't want to talk to anyone else, or hear anyone else. He didn't want to feel anything else except Rick's presence. It isn't as though Rick automatically made it okay, but it felt like something like that.

Shane was panicking for reasons that he didn't want to be general knowledge- he left someone for dead. Might as well have shot him in the head. He _did_ , however, want Rick to know what kind of state of mind he was in, so he bumped Rick's hand from his shoulder and moved it over to his heart. He was sure Rick felt the lightning fast _thud- thud, thud- thud_ \- he thought it shook the whole house at first, but then realized it was he himself who was shaking.

Rick glanced at him, and without a moments notice, dragged him to the bed so he could sit down, not bothering with the chair. The moment he touched the mattress, he let out a shaky sigh, trying to say something, _anything_ \- he just couldn't make his vocal chords work.

Rick seemed to get that, shushing him, sitting down next to him. It was not until he felt Rick's arm around him that he realized the blood trickling down his cheek- he hurriedly scrubbed his hand across his face, worried Otis had left evidence, but no. It took Shane a moment to register that it was not blood that was dripping down his face, they were tears. He couldn't make them stop- didn't know why they kept coming. He didn't feel like crying, but he couldn't stop. The only thing he could do was lean to the right, and let himself be weak for only a moment.

 _That's right, do what you always do. Go to Rick. Leech off him, lean on him, whatever. He'll fix everything for you. Not like he doesn't have his own damn problems._

After moments of Rick's breath and quiet comfort, he slipped his shoulder out from under Shane's head, took Shane's face in his hands, thumbs just in front of his ears and fingertips resting on the nape of his neck. Shane replied in the same way- it was all he could do- shuddering with all the work he was doing trying to find his voice instead of relying on all this touching, this holding, and the quiet.

 _It's almost too intimate to bear. You don't deserve this from Rick. You don't deserve anything but what you have- guilt._

But, even so, Shane didn't deny that these things brought him comfort. Maybe not having to express your thoughts in words was a good thing sometimes- in fact, he was actually partial to this, with Rick, his soft, reassuring voice telling him little lies that he knew were lies, indeed.

"It's all gonna be okay."

 _It's all gonna go to hell, boy, you know that._

Right here, right now, what Rick says goes.

"I _need_ you, Shane."

 _He doesn't need you. He never has. No one ever listens to you._

What Rick says goes.

Shane's mind was almost on autopilot. What Rick says goes- trust him above any other.

Trust him with anything, you name it: Your life? You could surely count on him to do everything in his power to keep you safe, as long as you did the same for him. Trust Rick with your love? Or your trust? Shane had pretty much blindly thrust these things at Rick and merely asked him, "I scratch your back, you scratch mine?"

Shane was pulled back from his thoughts, again, by Rick's touch. Rick gently pulled their foreheads together, softly murmuring about nothing in particular. Shane felt Rick's breath warm his face. Shane hadn't known his own eyes were closed until he felt them fluttering open- Rick's soft blue eyes piercing his own deep browns.

Rick's hands travelled down, down, until they reached his shoulders, leaving them there for a moment. Rick then leaned back so he could examine Shane again, hands moving back up, fingertips on Shane's temples, tilting his head the slightest bit to and fro. By the looks of it, Rick is checking him for some kind of head injury.

 _So he thinks your out of it? Rightly so. You've never been_ _ **in**_ _it._

Shane didn't know where to look, didn't know why he felt his face heating up. This was not the time.

His eyes fluttered once again, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Rick's hand grasped at his chin briefly, just to raise Shane to eye level- again, just checking. He complied, and Rick was so much closer all of a sudden, face a bit contorted with worry and concern. He was always so _fucking_ concerned. Rick was so close to him that Shane could've sworn he felt his best friend's breath on his face again. It smelled like sweet grass, and a little salty.

Shane didn't try to stop himself, nothing jarred him, and nothing made him think twice about following instinct. He leaned in quickly, pressing his lips to Rick's, and just as quickly rocking himself backwards, ashamed. Ashamed that he thought Rick might comply, that he thought of going forward- ashamed that he got goose bumps. After all the years of pining, why now? Shane shouldn't be this vulnerable. He thought he'd learned to turn that switch off.

These thoughts increased his self-loathing more than he could bear.

 _Now look what you did, faggot. You done fucked up._

Before Rick could say anything, Shane stuttered for half a second, and then blurted, "I-I didn't mean to." But he wasn't going to apologize. He wasn't sorry. Rick looked at him. Just looked. His expression turned from unreadable to understanding, "Okay." Shane could feel the heat crawl up his neck and spread over his cheeks.

 _Shame on you._

Rick's expression turned into something that was slightly sympathetic, scooting over so that his knee was resting against Shane's. Rick didn't know what to do, what to think. His friend was hurting, but then again they all were. For all Rick knew, he could have been Dale and Shane would've leaned.

Shane, like a wounded animal, got up looking down at the floor, and made his hasty exit.


	2. Chapter 2

Shane woke up in a cold sweat and decided he couldn't stand this anymore- he got up from his bed, walking down the creaking stairs, and strode on out the door. He didn't even bother to close it quietly, but he guessed no one else had heard it.

He moved to run his hand through his hair in frustration, but felt nothing except the stubble across his head. No wonder it felt a little cooler outside than before.

He went over to the fence, leaning on it, scanning the horizon, gaze rising up to the stars. Suddenly, he heard the door squeak open again and looked over behind him- Rick. White as a sheet, looked like he swayed in the breeze for a minute. He should be sleeping _._ Rick eyed him, looking around, perhaps wondering if anyone else had followed the sound. He walked over to the fence and leaned against it, his hands clasping each other, mimicking Shane's pose. He spoke, interrupting the gentle breeze and rustling leaves and whatnot, and the first thing he said was "I'm not mad, y'know…" Shane knew that- it really wasn't what he was worried about either way. He was worried about his own feelings, his memories; he thought it was bad to remember.

He was worried about that night. Otis. And Lori- god damn it- he was worried that Rick _would_ be mad, and soon. Rick straightened up, and Shane turned to him, about to speak, but Rick laughed. Not a large, jovial one, just a small chuckle. Before Shane knew what Rick was laughing about, he moved closer and put his hands on Shane's head, examining it, "I forgot that was there," And suddenly it all came flooding back to him.

They'd been at someone's high school party for hours- there was no end in sight, and Shane was much more than three sheets into the wind. He decided he'd make an announcement, Shane forgot what now, looking back on it. Anyway, he'd decided to make an announcement and he figured that climbing up on top of Rick's dad's truck would make sure all eyes and ears were on him. The moment he started talking, he slipped off and fell into the truck bed, and howls of laughter followed. "Holy shit," he remembered hearing from Rick, who came running, worrying over him, hovering, asking if he was hurt. Shane didn't think so until he ran a hand through his hair and discovered there was a big bloody streak across his palm. Somehow, Rick saw it as his fault for having such an "evil deathtrap machine of a truck" carrying on and saying how sorry he was even though it wasn't his fault. Later, Shane remembered Rick staying with in that hospital room, waking him up every hour on the hour because he wanted to be sure Shane wasn't in a comma or something.

Shane's eyes showed recollection, and he chuckled, "Don't know how you could, with all the apologizin' and carryin' on you did," Rick huffed a laugh back, tracing the scar with his thumb, and soon removing his hands. Shane gave him a small, lopsided smile. It was a real one, before he forgot where they were. "Did I wake anyone up?" Rick teased, "What, you mean with your door slammin' and stompin' all around? No, not really." Shane smiled a little bit again- knowing Rick was trying to keep that smile on his face, make him feel better- Shane went back to leaning on the fence, nudged Rick's elbow with his. Rick looked down smiling, and then back up, "You saved Carl today."

Shane swallowed; he'd wanted to avoid the subject all day, not wanting to think of Otis' screams and pleas. The shouts of terror still reverberated in his head. He could feel Otis tugging on his hair, heard the rip of his flesh as he hobbled off with the numerous bags of equipment.

"Shane?"

It felt like only Rick could bring him back from his self induced, private nightmare world.

 _You deserve it though, lying scum._

"Yeah."

Rick put his hand on Shane's shoulder- and Shane noticed how rather tenderly, softly he did it- and asked, "You with me, man?" Shane automatically answered yes, without even thinking about what that actually meant. He'd shot Otis, left him for dead. Something had switched in him, like he remembered how he used to be, but couldn't get back to it. He wasn't sure how long he could try.

Rick moved his hand up to the back of Shane's neck, where it settled comfortably, as it usually did. The warm touch, Rick's hand, it brought back sensory- and savory- memories for Shane.

 _"You did it for me, though," Rick slurred and stumbled against Shane, a hand gripping the back of his neck for support. The beers they'd been drinking impaired their speech- and their judgment, just a tiny bit. Rick continued trying to walk straight, steadying himself and getting ready to head back from the university to the academy. They frequented the university parties if they had any free time, because when the fuck was there time to throw decent enough parties at the police academy. Shane huffed, "Yeah, like once, man," Rick scoffed back at him, "Well hey, just tryin' a' be fair, considerin' no girl gives your ass a go for more than a week." Shane ignored how cold Rick sounded, and joked, only he was aware it didn't really sound like a joke, just really messed up, "If only we stopped jerking each other off we'd have girlfriends." Rick took this seriously, "Like you said, only happened once," He added, "I'm just offerin'. I'm tryin' a' help your dumbass out- ain't no one else around offerin' up, either." Shane raised an eyebrow at him, equivalent to are you serious? And Rick huffed, "Fuck it, ain't my choice anyway. But you should be more careful, dickhead, ain't like I don't here you every night, man," Shane stopped in his tracks. Rick stopped too, gesturing for Shane to follow him and to hurry up. Shane thought—he majorly considered for a fairly lengthy amount of time. Then, he decided to walk down a darker alley, gesturing for Rick to follow him instead._

 _Shane leaned himself up against a wall, arms crossed, having had enough of Rick's shit. Rick cautiously followed, "Shane?" he started to say, but Shane cut him off, "I think reach around would work best for me, Grimes." Rick blinked, just staring for a moment before wordlessly situating himself between Shane and the wall. Shane was only slightly resting on Rick, who was mostly resting against the wall. Shane unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxers down just enough for his length to be uncovered. He grabbed Rick's hand, guiding him- teaching him just the way he liked. He left it to Rick after a bit, and with every tug, felt a pang of something like exponentially growing ecstasy in his abdomen. Shane didn't make a sound- except for the hitch of his breath every now and again, rocking a little against Rick. Rick teased, "It's okay to make some noise, bud," Oh fuck that was what Shane had said to him when their positions were switched- except they were in Rick's weird, smelly basement. How the hell had he remembered Shane's exact words? Had they really stuck with him that long? Maybe he sometimes jerked off to them? Rick thinking of Shane's voice while jerking off? Yes, it was a stretch. Did Shane care? Absolutely not. Jesus fuck. The thought of that got a peep out of Shane, a quiet, sweet little moan. He felt Rick's hard length, only a layer of denim and thin cotton separating them. Only that. Rick started grinding against him, much to the surprise of his friend. Shane tried to laugh, but he groaned instead; it was funny because he'd always seen Rick as the good boy, the angel, he'd never do something so dirty and hot and terrible like Shane had- but now look. Shane rocked against him, not sure which way to go- forwards, he felt the tug of Rick's hand more, backwards, he felt Rick rutting against his crack through Rick's denim, friction so hot and electric against the patch of his exposed skin and god he wanted everything Rick had to give him- even more than that. Rick seemed to sense this, growling into his ear quietly, "You're a greedy sum'bitch, ain'tchyou?" and Shane tried not to say anything, but he couldn't resist, "Damn right," and Rick's other hand reached down to tease around his balls, pad his entrance, and Shane let out a gasp, quick and high, then closed his eyes, making soft noises just for Rick, trying not to let out_ _ **too**_ _many pleas for him, and Rick leans over and whispers, "You wanna come? You gonna scream for me, huh?" and fucking god it's a miracle Shane didn't scream so loud it shattered the fucking sky- no, no, instead, when he came, he just moaned all high and breathy and tried not to feel like he'd just been reborn. Jesus fucking christ he wanted to get laid, and damn it if he ever followed that breadcrumb trail of gayness down bisexuality lane, it would only be for Rick. Fuck, he wanted to know what it was like to be filled, just with Rick- this made his final decision clear. He wanted it to be Rick first if ever. Rick. Eyes deeper, that blue grey prettier than any girl's he'd ever seen, smart as hell, and that tentative little smile that he loved to try to tease into a big stupid grin, his best damn friend- the fact that Rick was_ _ **his**_ _best friend, his_ _ **anything,**_ _made him feel blessed._

 _Rick's touch brought him out of his mind, his hand copping a feel on his ass, and he hadn't even realized his jeans were edged a little bit more down than they were before but what in the fuck was he gonna do without this man in his life god damn it he had to find a way to have him forever. He gave up trying to be macho for just a moment and gave in, moaning softly in his throat, pushing into it. Rick leaned up just the slightest, and bit his neck, not even trying to be very gentle with him. Something fierce inside Shane clicked;_ _ **fuck he liked that**_ _. Then something else clicked inside him- he had to get away before he got harder again, had to push his high down deep. He had to get away before this completely fucked up their friendship type relationship in unconceivable ways- before he screwed up completely. Quick before the stress release turned dire; before either of them needed it too often. Quick before he could have any more feelings. He grasped Rick's hand behind him- didn't notice how softly he did it- and slowly moved it off of him. He then peeled himself away from Rick reluctantly, holding his pants up, hurriedly doing them back up, trying to buckle his belt, trying to keep his voice from shaking, "Shit man, enough, y'think once is good for tonight, huh?" He looked up and then felt sorry he did- Rick looked like someone who'd just witnessed a puppy get spat on, or even worse, he could have been the puppy. But you wouldn't know it unless you'd known Rick all your life. Jesus._ Think of something, idiot! _"'Sides, you're-" Shane gestured to Rick's crotch area, "You probably got blue balls by now, probably wanna take care a' that in private since we- um, we already- w-whatever- it's late anyhow, can't stay out here forever y'know, the city n' stuff," Shane's hands were shaking and he couldn't fucking operate this buckle because he could barely see and what the hell what if he was actually in the middle of falling in love with Rick, what if his high hadn't been a high, just an extension of what he really felt, what if that's why he was so scared, what if- "Shane…" Shane's thoughts stopped coming so loud; he stopped thinking and looked up at Rick. He was closer now, and he felt hands tug at his belt, but they were buckling it. Rick smoothed out Shane's shirt, hands landing on his shoulders in a final pat, like a pat-pat. Rick gestured to him, "Hope ya find a way to cover up that nice mark- ts'hot out, so don't get a stroke wearin' a scarf," Shane blinked, and watched Rick's back retreating, and then soon followed him back to their hall, neither saying a word._

Shane shook his head and laughed a bit nervously, trying to get the intensity out of his head. He looked out, far out onto Hershel's property and beyond. He looks over at Rick, same blue eyes…his posture slouches a little bit now though, probably just stress, and oh right, the fucking apocalypse.

Shane remembered way back when, right when it all started. Reports were all over the news, of "people" walking around in Sweden, and how they just wouldn't go down, just wouldn't die, but there was no graphic evidence. Or an Ebola victim in Liberia reanimating itself somehow…Shane couldn't believe it at first. Couldn't even listen to it- whenever some panicked news reporter's face popped up on the television, it was always: _those damn crackpots are at it again. Fuckin' idiots._

He couldn't believe it until it happened in his own country. He had the ignorant bliss, the _comfort_ , of the infection being so far away, and so few- _that's big water between me and Zimbabwherever, I'm safe right here. 'Sides, not real anyways._ Shane had seen the video of some guy in Los Angeles who wouldn't stop walking, shot in the chest four times. Everyone was freaked. And up the coast he saw real reports, videos, and he didn't think it was just sort of stupid story anymore. He knew that he wasn't safe anymore. No one was.

Wrong yet again; he had been in danger _all_ along. He never wanted to believe it. Everything happened so fast, there was no time. No time. No time to tell Rick the things he'd meant to say a long time ago, but he'd been too afraid. He liked to pretend he wasn't anymore, afraid of his feelings- liked to pretend he had grown numb to him- but truly he could feel it. Shane had, for the _most_ part, shut down that branch of his mind. Not entirely, though. It could easily be reignited, and sometimes, he hoped it would. However it would probably impact everything if anyone found out. Especially fuckin' _Glenn_ , he just can't keep his fuckin' mouth shut.

"What?" Rick demanded. "What?" Shane was confused- they'd been silent for quite a while. "Why'd you laugh?" "I…oh." _Oh, no reason, just thinking about how you jerked me off. And then about how fast civilization ended._ Shane had lost track of time. It flew by fast.

There was a long comfortable silence between them, Rick's hand occasionally rubbing the back of Shane's neck, and Shane breathing slowly.

Rick rubbed the nape of Shane's neck, where his hand originally rested, "Tense." Shane nodded, "You too." Rick went behind him, "I'm not kidding," "Neither am I." Rick pushed the heel of his hand into Shane's right shoulder, "I know but, man, must be the diggin' we've been doin' lately." Shane was pretty sure his face reddened, he murmured, "Must be…"

Rick utilized both of his hands, fingertips just going over the muscle in the shoulder, massaging into the knots. Shane closed his eyes, leaning minimally into Rick's touch, fighting to keep his mouth shut; he didn't want to let a thing slip.

Or maybe Rick's trying something—but no, he couldn't be. Rick's not that stupid. Shane had to make sure, though.

He stepped away, voice laced with uncomfortable sentiment, "Rick, uh…" Rick blinked innocently, but he backed up, hands up slightly, as a surrender. Shane tried to laugh it off, "It's just…I mean, y'know, c'mon man…" Rick didn't need any more of an explanation, nodding, "I here ya…sorry about that. It wasn't intended to be…"

"I…yeah. I get that, but I just..." Shane nodded, looking down at the ground when he figured Rick wasn't gonna look him in the eyes either. "I, uh…M'not sorry about everything, though." Shane looked up, a spark in his eyes. Rick looked up too, meeting his gaze, "About uh…that stuff we went through. I don't regret it…it's alright if you do," Shane said quickly, shaking his head, "I don't."

Rick's eyes shown. Shane thought he might say 'good.' or something like that, but then realized what a stupid thought that was because Rick would never say something so compromising like that. Rick instead struggled to speak, and when he finally did, "Evidently..." He cleared his throat, "Evidently, we can't make allowances like that now. I don't think we need to...we were young. And right now, we have too many reasons, not to." This hit Shane- he quickly recovered from it, remembering that it was the apocalypse and that they were middle aged guys, cursing Rick for making him feel like a hormonal, confused-about-his-sexuality teenager.

Shane agreed, he really did. They were older, wiser, and Rick had a family of his own. _You used to be family._ Shane nodded profusely, "I hear ya brother. I agree. You don't need to-" he gestured, "-get into that." _Right now?_

Shane spoke, "Man…you should get some sleep, Rick…" Rick gestured to him, "We both should." Shane nodded, following Rick up the steps.

Rick opened the door, Shane following him inside. Shane almost followed him into his bedroom without thinking about what he was doing, and then realized he shouldn't when Rick stopped at the door, gazing at him. Shane felt the heat gather in his face. Rick's blue eyes glancing across his face, reading him. Those eyes. Beautiful, gentle, _Rick_. Rick softly said, "G'night," Shane answered automatically, "G'night." Rick closed the door. Shane didn't want to leave. He wanted to keep seeing Rick's face, he wanted to keep him close. After that conversation, his subconscious was all too unrealistically hopeful.

Suddenly, the door opened again, and it was Carl, getting up to go to the bathroom. Carl smiled tiredly up at him, blinking. He crouched down, ruffled the boy's hair, telling him to make sure he tells his daddy thanks from him. Carl nodded, walking off to the bathroom.

Shane walked off in the other direction to be pulled into the dark oblivion of sleep for a few hours.


End file.
